


Under Different Circumstances

by Graceful_Storyteller



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5 Things, Aliens, Cyberterrorists, I think that's everything I need to tag, M/M, PTSD sufferers, Serial Killers, just look at them, look at my fandoms Anakin, reformed drug addicts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:03:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graceful_Storyteller/pseuds/Graceful_Storyteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Yeah?”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>The sound of that familiar voice both rattles and soothes Loki’s nerves, and he once again wonders if this is a mistake. He sighs as he replies, “Stark, it’s Loki.”</i>
  <br/>
  <i>“Who?”</i>
</p>
<p>5 lives Tony and Loki never lived and the one they did. Includes Jotun! <i>Aladdin</i> AU, <i>Elementary</i> AU, <i>Criminal Minds</i> AU, <i>Pacific Rim</i> AU, <i>Blacklist</i> AU, and <i>Thor 2</i> spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Different Circumstances

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this in 2013, but due to personal reasons I've had a hard time finishing. That means when I wrote some of these I'd seen about 3 episodes of season 1 and now the show is on season 3. So when I say it's an AU of something I just mean that was the inspiration more than anything. I think I've put enough background info for those who don't know the source material but I'm happy to answer questions if anything doesn't makes sense.

**Aladdin**

“Are you insane?” Loki hisses. “If Father sees you here he’ll-”

“Relax Your Highness; nobody will see if you move your pretty blue ass and let me land.”

Biting back a furious comment, Loki retreats a step to allow the mad human to land one of his infernal contraptions on Loki’s balcony. When Stark has switched off the machine, pushed his goggles into his hair, and removed the bright red scarf from over his nose and mouth, the prince returns to making his displeasure known.

“I estimate you have a little over a minute before the palace guards arrive to slay you where you stand you reckless, arrogant, foolish-”

“If this is what gratitude looks like on your planet then I don’t like it.”

“Gratitude?” Loki growls. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be grateful for you buffoon?”

“The fact that I, at great personal risk to myself, snuck in here - invisible to the naked eye - and offered to take you on a tour of your planet.”

For a moment Loki is rendered speechless.

The smug look that makes its way onto Stark’s face helps him to relocate his tongue. “That is possibly the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

Stark’s grin wavers. “I thought you were desperate to get out of the palace. To, you know, see the world?”

Loki stares at him as if he is an idiot. Which he is. Only an idiot would break into Laufey’s palace, attempt to abduct the heir to the throne (however temporarily) and expect to walk away from the encounter unscathed.

“I did say that I would like to see what lies beyond the confines of the palace,” the prince sniffs haughtily, “but I never said I wanted to see it with a lowly human such as yourself.”

“Oh.”

Hurt flashes across Stark’s face; then the man’s expression becomes closed to Loki.

“Well, in that case, I’m sorry to have wasted your time _Your Highness_.” He jerks down his goggles and readjusts his scarf. “Enjoy the rest of your night!” he shouts over the sudden roar of his machine.

Loki suppresses a wince. “And you,” he calls back, watching from behind a mask of disdain as the vehicle moves to hover a few feet above the balcony.

Understandably Stark ignores him. Loki tells himself that it is for the best; that he is doing the right thing by sending the human away. And yet...If he does this there is no turning back. He cannot undo this dismissal. If he lets Stark go all interaction between them must surely cease. There will be no more discussions of cultural differences, no more tales of Earth and its people, no more excited babbling about Stark’s latest technological creation, no more insults and arguments, no more philosophising over coffee, no more lingering looks or innuendos, no more invitations to stay the night...Not that Loki calling Stark back would make any of those things possible.

Stark flips a switch and suddenly he and his machine are gone. The silence sends Loki reeling and causes him to take an involuntary step forward. “Tony!” he gasps, confusion and fear overwhelming his concern for Stark’s safety for the first time that night.

The human reappears just as suddenly as he vanished. He’s still straddling his gently purring machine, the only real difference is that instead of wearing a scowl he appears just as startled as Loki. “Yes?”

“Your machine...” Loki mutters, rather at a loss for words.

“Oh yeah,” Stark replies, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes heralding the return of his smug smirk. “I never showed you my cloaking technology did I. You impressed?”

As much as Loki wants to deny that he is, the truth is that what Stark has done is remarkable. He knows that the technology exists to cloak warships, and that skilled sorcerers can conceal themselves from detection – but he has never seen such a small vehicle able to make itself both silent and invisible.

“How does it work?”

“The engine generates a stealth field around it and the rider. The field keeps noise in and prying eyes out. I could get more technical but I'd rather not put you to sleep when things are starting to get interesting.”

Placing a reverent hand on metal that is warm even to his chilled fingers, Loki forces himself to remain calm. He'd known Stark was brilliant but this... With this they could leave the palace undetected – they could travel great distances and Loki could be back in his room before his presence was ever missed. With this machine Loki could finally explore the world that has been just out of his grasp for the longest time...

Loki's hand curls into a fist and he slowly returns it to his side.

“It is too great a risk,” he whispers, the image of the fallout of a servant come looking for him and reporting his absence playing before his eyes with worrying clarity.

“Huh?”

Loki turns suddenly furious eyes on him and demands, “Do you know what you ask of me? If we are caught or if my father even _suspects_ your involvement in this foolishness there will be nothing I could possibly say or do to save you. The king will devise some cruel new punishment just for you; he’ll break you and make me watch in the hope that I finally learn the cost of disobedience.”

“Aw Princess – I didn't know you cared.”

Before Loki can clamber onto Stark's machine and rip his insolent head from his body, the human pulls down his scarf and stares seriously at Loki.

“I'm not an idiot you know. I'm well aware of the risks, and I find them acceptable.” He smirks and adds, “Narcissist like you shouldn’t be surprised that I find you the most interesting thing on this planet. Thrill-seeker that I am I’m more than willing to put my life in danger to spend more time with you.”

With great difficulty Loki pushes aside the compliment in order to hold onto his rage. “You're a fool.”

“Maybe,” Stark responds with all seriousness, “but at least when I die I'll be able to say that I've lived.”

That strikes a chord within Loki and almost completely robs him of the will to resist the mad human and his own desires. _What is a life that has not been lived?_ He's certain such a phrase had been used in their previous conversations. Now that it has once again reared its head all Loki can do is wonder: _why_?

“I lied to you. I let you believe me to be human...”

“It doesn't matter; I'm over it. The fact that you're an alien prince and were able to hide it from me for so long actually makes you more interesting.”

Stark's smile is flirtatious and the way his eyes travel over Loki's exposed flesh informs the prince in no uncertain terms that he is not just  _intellectually_ interesting. Satisfaction and mutual lust burns in Loki's belly; for the first time that night the need to press his body against Stark's has become stronger than his fear of the consequences of their reunion. Still, he needs one final reassurance that Stark understands what he is agreeing to. 

“You are aware that this will not last? I am a prince with duties and obligations – one of which is to marry the one my Father betrothed me to at my birth. Whatever exists between us must be impermanent and secret.”

“You underestimate my charms; I'm sure I can convince you to run away with me by the end of the night.” Before Loki can reprimand him for his frivolous comment Stark continues, more sombre now than he has been during the course of their meeting, “We have a saying on Earth: _better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all_. I'm young and impetuous and I have absolutely no idea what the future holds for me. And, to be honest, I really don't care; not when all I can think about is spending time with you.” 

Loki has no words to respond to that – only actions. With one graceful movement he hoists himself onto the back of Stark's machine, much to the human's surprise. Stark twists to look at him over his shoulder, but before he can say a word Loki covers his mouth with his own. The kiss is hindered by the awkward angle but still just as satisfying as Loki had imagined it would be. Stark's lips are warm, soft, pliant – and Loki looks forward to exploring them further from a less complicated position.

Sighing, Loki breaks the kiss to press his forehead against the wind-resistant fabric of Stark's jacket. “That is the difference between you and I,” he murmurs just loud enough for Stark to hear. “You live in the present; I have always been obsessed with the future. Perhaps it's time I try to see things from your perspective.” Wrapping his arms around Stark's waist, Loki shifts his position so that his chest is pressed firmly against Stark's back. Their thighs touch and Loki whispers, “I'm ready to see the world.”

“In that case you'll need these,” Stark says with barely contained excitement. He reaches into his jacket pocket and produces another set of goggles.

Loki takes them with a murmured, “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet Princess – you haven't experienced my driving.”

Suddenly concerned, Loki only manages to utter Stark's name before the insane human activates his cloaking device and revs the engine to an obscene level of sound. Loki tightens his grip on Stark's waist and mentally begins cursing the man in every language he knows.

 

**Elementary**

“Tony Stark?”

Tony glances up from his tablet at the stranger standing beside him. Caucasian male, late fifties, married but with a history of cheating on his wife, no criminal record, low-level bureaucrat, mild OCD, caffeine addict, listens to classical music and enjoys nothing more than complaining about the youth of today. In other words, someone Tony has absolutely zero interest in conversing with.

“ _You’re_ Hela’s father?”

“Yes,” the man replies, his mouth curving into a light smile. “Am I not what you imagined?”

“No,” Tony responds with obvious disappointment, already calculating the best way to escape what will undoubtedly be an encounter of the dullest kind.

“Why is that?” Hela’s father asks as he takes the seat opposite Tony. “What has Hela told you about me?”

“She told me you’d be interesting.”

The man raises a curious eyebrow. “You’ve already come to the conclusion that I’m not interesting?”

“There’s a Starbucks receipt in your pocket dated today: you knew that we’d be meeting in a coffee house but couldn’t wait that long for your caffeine fix so you had to stop and buy a drink for the journey. Your addiction in conjunction with your bad posture and poor eyesight say that you’re use to having a thankless office job with long hours and few perks. You wear a wedding ring but there's no tan line, indicating that you often remove it – most likely to improve your chances of picking up desperately lonely women. In your pocket is a bottle I’m certain contains some sort of disinfectant that you can apply after touching anyone who is ‘unclean’. When you walked in you took one look at me and instantly disapproved of my street clothes and the fact that my shirt says I like music that wasn’t written by a dead European. I am one hundred percent certain that you have nothing to say that would interest me.”

For a moment the man is silent and Tony holds his breath, hoping that his rudeness will cause this disappointing drone to leave. Then the stranger grins – wide and wild and full of an almost deranged delight – and everything changes. Suddenly, Hela’s father looks fifteen years younger. This new man is the opposite of what Tony thought he was: he’s a predator, a man use to power; use to walking the line between law and chaos. A creature of deception, of intellect, of the ability to adapt to the situation – one moment a master of subtle diplomacy and manipulation, the next a cut-throat monster skilled in medieval brutality.

“Do you still find me uninteresting Mr Stark?”

Tony blinks, completely blindsided by this sudden change in not just posture but _personality_. “Oh,” is all he is able to manage as his brain catalogues and evaluates all the new information his eyes are sending him.

Hela’s father laughs. “My daughter warned me about you. She said you were clever, far too clever for your own good, and easily bored.” He takes off the spectacles he doesn’t actually need, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Have I captured your attention enough to have you answer a few of my questions?”

“Only if you answer some of mine,” Tony responds, sitting up straighter and barely resisting the temptation to lean closer to this new puzzle he is suddenly desperate to solve. “Let’s start with what I’m supposed to call you, apart from ‘Hela’s intriguing DILF’.”

“My, my – I really _have_ captured your attention,” the man preens, his trickster grin growing impossibly wider.

“It’s not often I completely misread someone like that. Even professional actors can’t hide their little quirks from me – you wouldn’t believe the number of films I’ve ruined for Rhodey by pointing out all the inconsistencies in an actor’s performance. But you...You really had me going there. I thought Hela had lost her mind arranging a play date for me with somebody so depressingly normal.” Tony smiles self-depreciatingly. “I should have known no relation of hers should be judged by its cover.”

“You mean her deformities,” the man deadpans, his expression closing and giving absolutely nothing away.

“To normal people, yes, she does get judged by her looks. I personally was referring to the quick mind and black humour that she hides under her understandable animosity towards strangers. It took me a few visits to the morgue to earn her respect and be offered the privilege of seeing her true self.”

Tony sees he’s answered the question correctly. Good, he wants to stay on good terms with this man. Not just because he is the father of a friend and that Tony will be seeing a lot of him (what with being the best man at Hela and Rhodey’s wedding), but because he really is fascinating. Tony wants to get to know him, if not for his own sake then for Rhodey’s. This is clearly the sort of father who will kidnap the fiancée and torture him to make sure he isn’t hiding any secrets that might hurt his little girl; Tony would be a bad friend if he didn't stay and uncover the man's own secrets. And also drop some subtle hints that waterboarding his friend would be a colossal waste of his time. Rhodey might be more interesting than most normal people, but that doesn't mean his secrets are. (Tony should know – one of his favourite hobbies is shameless prying into Rhodey's affairs).

Anyway, back to more stimulating matters than Rhodey's mundane secrets. “You never answered my question. Unless that means you would like for me to refer to you as DILF...”

The man pauses. “Loki. You, Tony Stark, can call me Loki.”

 

**Criminal Minds**

More than once Loki has been asked how he manages to go to work day after day when he knows that all that awaits him is more of the same – violence, death, horror. The answer he gives is that he is able to detach himself from his work. He approaches each new murder as another case study, another scenario made up by his professors to test his skills. He tries not to see the people involved, to feel the pain of the families left behind. He is not desensitised to the violence; he has simply created a professional personality which he steps into in order to do his job.

Sometimes, however, the barriers he creates between himself and the case are not strong enough. Sometimes, the deaths get to him. Things get personal and it takes all his willpower not to shoot the unsub once they catch him.

Tonight is one of those nights. He’s just flown back from Wyoming after catching a killer who made his victims watch as he surgically removed their organs. After the victim died of exsanguination the head was removed and mailed to the victim’s family. After spending a week surrounded by that case, and under constant scrutiny from the media as the bodies kept on piling up, Loki had cracked. He’d watched a woman open a box containing her husband’s head. He’d grabbed her son and turned his head away so that he would not see what had become of his father. He’d taken that family to the local police station, asked them who they thought could have done this, then watched as they joined half a dozen other families who had received a similar package. He’d stood and seethed and waited for the break in the case that would give these people closure. Closure was never really what they wanted though. They wanted their loved ones back and that was something he could never give them.

Stopping at the red light, Loki releases a long shuddering breath. Even after more than an hour on a plane he’s still on edge. He’s still seeing heads in boxes and little boys asking him why mommy is crying. He wants to cry himself – or scream, or punch, or...He needs to do something to relieve the tension.

A car horn blares and he quickly moves to the next red light. Up ahead, illuminated by a million tiny bulbs, is a billboard advertising the latest Tony Stark movie. As Loki stares at the conceited smile and cheesy action pose he recalls Stark’s offer. _If you ever need a little help pulling that stick out of your ass just give me a call. I’d happily clear my schedule for a little alone time with you, Special Agent Pretty Boy._

To Loki’s horror he’s actually tempted by the offer. It’s been a little over a month since he received the call, since Stark had the balls to call him at the Bureau and remind him of their tryst the night before. He’d known back then that sleeping with Stark (a man he was sure was a serial killer in the making if not one already) was a stupid and reckless thing to do, but he’d done it anyway. He’d done it because Laufey, his estranged father, was dead and Loki had never had the opportunity to tell him just how mad at him he was. He’d put off that visit for years thinking he had all the time in the world to order his feelings – but then the bastard had died and Loki had forever been denied his chance to voice all the things that should have been said. His impotent rage and misery had also been fuelled by the fact that he’d only just transferred to the Los Angeles Bureau. He’d left all his friends and colleagues (and his cheating now ex-boyfriend) back in Virginia. He’d had nobody to lean on, to talk to, to share the burden of his loss with. So he’d done what so many young people do when they’re hurting and need someone to connect with – he’d gone to a club in search of an uncomplicated one-night-stand. What he’d found instead was Tony Stark, still as full of himself and flirtatious as the last time they’d met, and even though Loki had told himself he should just walk away before he did something he’d regret...

The light changes and Loki hastily drives on. His skin prickles with the anticipation of the bad decision he is about to make, with the knowledge that he is about to head to Beverly Hills instead of returning home like a good little FBI agent. The thought of reuniting with Stark, of once again letting the man get close to him makes his insides twist in a way which is not altogether unpleasant. This betrayal of his body makes him swear violently as he makes a sharp turn that most definitely will lead him into temptation.

The lights are on in Stark’s home when Loki pulls up outside the gate. Staring at the intercom system, the agent starts to have second thoughts. What if Stark has already chosen tonight’s bedmate? What if, after a month of radio silence, Stark has rescinded his offer? What if the offer had been a joke – a mere opportunity for Stark to stroke his own ego with the knowledge he had the agent who first accused him of murder in New York hooked on him like a drug? Filled with the sudden, impotent fury mixed with embarrassment he often feels around Stark, Loki is just about to leave when he remembers. He remembers heads in boxes, sobbing relatives, and the desire to run away until he recalls how to compartmentalise this shit. He remembers tequila burning the back of his throat, music pounding in his ears, a warm body pressed up against his; he remembers the moment he stopped feeling Laufey’s death and how glorious it was to just _stop_ , even if it was only for a few moments.

Loki presses the buzzer on the intercom and waits.

“Yeah?”

The sound of that familiar voice both rattles and soothes Loki’s nerves, and he once again wonders if this is a mistake. He sighs as he replies, “Stark, it’s Loki.”

“Who?”

Loki closes his eyes and imagines finding _Stark’s_ head in a box. “Special Agent Pretty Boy.”

“Oh!” Stark cries in sudden realisation. “Pretty Boy! Is this a social or work call?”

“It’s nearly one am, what do you think?” Loki snaps. He takes a steadying breath and clarifies, “Social.”

“Well, well, well; I must admit, I was starting to think you'd never take up my offer,” Stark says with obvious relish. Loki wishes the man would just drop dead, but Stark clearly doesn’t hear him as the next words out of his mouth are, “Luckily for you I’m all on my lonesome tonight. Come on up.”

There’s a loud buzz from the control box and the gate quietly glides open. Loki rolls up his window and drives towards the house, pulling out his phone as he does so. He might be reckless but he’s not a moron. You never walk willingly into the home of a potential serial killer without informing _someone_ where you’re going. In this case those people are Peggy Carter and Jane Foster, his colleagues at the Bureau. The text he sends both women clearly informs them that if he doesn’t make it into work the next day they should begin their investigation into his disappearance by having a long talk with Tony Stark. His colleagues know about his history with Stark after the last time they dallied and will hopefully take the text seriously. He knows the word ‘vendetta’ has been used in conjunction with him and Stark in the past; he’d hate to have past mistakes come back to haunt him.

Texts sent, Loki sees no reason to delay. He takes one final, reassuring breath, and steps out of the car.

 

** Pacific Rim **

The thing a lot of people forget is that there is no cure for being an addict. There's treatment and coping strategies and the knowledge that nothing good can come from returning to bad habits – but that doesn't take away the hunger. When things get bad, when the memories and the guilt threaten to overwhelm him, Tony always catches himself making a mental list of which street corners in LA will provide him with what he needs to find sweet oblivion. He's proud that he's never gotten further than that – that once he's caught himself thinking those thoughts he's turned to his coping strategies instead of a needle. Four years sober from drugs, booze, sex and gambling. Jarvis would be proud, if he were still here to see Tony's progress.

“So this is where you've been hiding.”

Tony jumps; his head had been so deeply buried in introspection and robot designs that he'd completely missed the arrival of another person in the Conn-Pod. “Been taking ninja lessons from Romanov Princess?”

When he receives no reply Tony puts down his tools and turns to face his visitor. Standing just inside the enclosed metal capsule, Loki is a vision in black and gold. Normally a man in uniform kills Tony's libido, but apparently Loki in his military best is the exception to the rule. It takes all of Tony's willpower to focus his gaze on poison green eyes instead of on shoulders that seem deliciously broader in that tasselled jacket.

“I missed you at the K-Day ceremony.”

Tony shrugs, ignoring the implied question in the prince's voice. “Sorry, not really my scene.”

Loki raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Are you certain? There were cameras everywhere and the press seemed desperate enough to trade their first-born for an exclusive with the 'hidden heroes' of the Pan Pacific Defence Corps. I thought you enjoyed watching the jackals fight amongst themselves?”

“Today I don't,” Tony responds with a rueful smile.

The prince hesitates. “Should I fetch Pepper?”

Tony laughs. “You know, most people would ask if I was alright _before_ offering to hunt down my therapist.”

“I'm not most people. And you didn't answer my question.”

Still smiling, Tony shakes his head. “I'm fine. Pepper's well aware that K-Day is a bad day for me and that dealing with the press is only going to make it worse, which is why Marshal Fury hasn't sent any of his goons to track me down so that he can tear me a new one for missing the ceremony. Unless I've been severely misled about you and that's what you're here to do?”

“Fear not, I come of my own volition and not under the orders of my commanding officer.”

“Well that's a relief.”

Once again Loki hesitates, the uncertainty in his eyes as he watches Tony a stark contrast to the confident Battle Programmer the engineer is use to dealing with.

“I'll leave you to your work then.”

“Don't,” Tony says without thinking. “I could use a break. Care to join me?”

There's a stretch of wall that has already been welded into place and the space around it cleared of debris. Tony uses it to lower himself to the floor and pats the space beside him in invitation.

“I know it's no gold-and-velvet throne, but that's the sacrifice you have to make if you want to hang with the commoners.”

Loki rolls his eyes but can't stop the smile that pulls at his lips. Using those lovely long legs to his advantage, the prince steps over exposed wires and missing panels until he reaches the indicated spot and drops down beside Tony. Their shoulders brush, and Tony is momentarily distracted by the prince's cologne. It's the one he wears for ceremonies and special occasions and eerily reminds Tony of his sixth birthday. Both his parents had been absent; only Jarvis had made the effort to mark the occasion. Tony had cried out of frustration and grief, and Jarvis had pulled him close until he ran out of tears. Jarvis had smelt like Loki does now – it must be the same brand of classy European perfume. What Tony wouldn't give to truly breathe in that scent...

“Stark, you're staring.”

It takes Tony a second to realise that, yes, he is staring at Loki in what many might deem a crazy-stalker manner. He hastily shakes himself out of it. “Sorry; I got distracted by the cheekbones. Who did you have to sell your soul to for those?”

“The devil, obviously.”

Tony grins and takes the opportunity to look away. He's suddenly regretting asking Loki to stay. K-Day is when he is at his most vulnerable and most likely to do something stupid like break the unspoken agreement between them. They're friends – anything more would leave them both vulnerable. No matter how much they flirt and make inappropriate work place jokes they both know there is a line they cannot cross without running the risk of destroying the developing bond that exists between them. They know, and yet they keep finding themselves in these situations, keep finding themselves dancing on that very same line.

In a desperate move to distract himself, Tony asks the question he has heard ad nauseam over the last week. “So, where were you when the first Kaiju made land four years ago?”

Loki is silent for long enough that Tony begins to panic that he has said the wrong thing entirely. Luckily for him the delay is more one of contemplation than of deep-seated offence.

“I was in Afghanistan, playing the part of second prince of Asgard and serving in the Royal Air Force. I woke up early that day and went into the Officers' Mess for breakfast. Unlike most days the television in there wasn't showing a cheesy American sitcom. It was tuned to an Asgardian news station and the anchorwoman was talking about the only story that mattered that day. A monster was attacking the city of San Francisco. It was massive and nothing the US military threw at it seemed to be making a dent. At first I thought it was a hoax or an advertisement for some new Hollywood blockbuster. My superior officer set me straight. This was real and it meant everything was about to change. So I sat down and watched along with the rest of the world, powerless to do anything but pray.” Absently, the prince caresses one of the few medals pinned to his chest that Tony recognises – the one given to Jaeger pilots when they graduate the Academy. “Even then I was dreaming of ways to defeat the Kaiju. The only difference is that I was foolish enough to think that I might be the one on the front line fighting rather than the shadow in the background designing these beautiful machines.”

As a general rule Tony makes very little effort to remember personal information about his co-workers – but even he knows that Loki is talking about his brother and the still festering wound Thor inflicted when he chose Sif as his Jaeger co-pilot instead of Loki.

“Personally I'm glad they stuck you behind the scenes. With you on Team J-Tech we are going to absolutely _thrash_ K-Science in the inter-departmental paint-ball tournament this year.”

Loki smiles. “They won't know what hit them will they?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, the prince releases his medal. He closes his eyes, using the same technique Pepper taught Tony to push back the dark thoughts.

“What about you Stark?” Loki murmurs after a moment, head tilted back and eyes still firmly shut. “Where were you on the first K-Day?”

Tony grimaces; he should have known that damn question would be thrown back at him once Loki had finished his story. If it was anyone else asking he wouldn't think twice about making his usual joke that he slept through the whole thing; but this is _Loki_ and the part of him that makes bad decisions desperately wants to tell the prince the truth.

“I was in San Francisco.”

Loki's eyes snap open and the words die in Tony's throat.

“Were you in the Bay Area?”

Unable to speak, Tony nods.

Macabre fascination enters Loki's eyes and for a second Tony fears that he is going to ask some horribly detailed questions. Instead the prince visibly reigns in whatever he was going to say and replaces it with, “Do not feel compelled to tell me your story; I would not have you endanger your sobriety for my sake.”

“That's very considerate of you.”

“I'm a very considerate person.”

They share a smile at the joke, and Tony feels his confidence begin to return. Loki is his friend, probably his best friend, and if he's willing to put Tony's well-being before his own usually insatiable curiosity then Tony must be someone he cares about too – hopefully enough to be able to forgive Tony for what he did that day, even when the engineer has yet to forgive himself.

Tony closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He can do this. He can share this with Loki – he can show him his sins and his scars without fear that the prince will turn away in disgust.

Besides, Tony thinks as he once again meets Loki's patient gaze, after the extensive (and apparently global) media coverage of some of his more spectacular drug-fuelled parties it isn't as if the prince should be surprised that Tony is a terrible person when under the influence.

“After I fell out with my dad, after he cut me off and I'd burned through my mother's trust-fund, I found out that once the party ends everybody leaves. The only one who didn't was my dad's butler, Jarvis. That stupid old man quit his job and used all of his savings to move the two of us to San Fran to get me away from my dealer. He did his best to get me off the drugs, to get me to take life seriously, and I let him down. I snuck out of the house in the dead of night, taking Jarvis' wallet with me, and went to Tenderloin to get high. He found me the next day and instead of yelling he just pulled me out of the gutter and told me to move. I thought I was hallucinating, but no, there really was a giant monster destroying the city. It was clear we couldn't outrun it so Jarvis led us to the harbour. A few of the boatmen down there were putting their lives on the line trying to get as many people as possible to safety. Jarvis had spent so long looking for me that there was only one boat left and the guy said they were already at maximum capacity, he could only take one of us in good conscience. Jarvis told him to take me, he said he'd wait for the next boat.”

Well aware that his eyes are more than a little moist, Tony takes a deep, shuddering breath and continues:

“There was no next boat. That was when they launched the first nuclear strike. The only person who ever really cared for me died to save the ungrateful junkie wash-out that I was. I vowed then and there that his sacrifice wasn't going to be in vain; I was going to become the man he always believed I could be. After the funeral I used the money Jarvis left me in his will to check myself into rehab. I got clean, I used what was left of my good name to get the PPDC to hire me, and now I build giant robots to fight the monsters that took the man who should have been my father from me.”

After Tony is finished, Loki doesn't say a word. All he does is place his hand on the engineer's thigh, just above the knee, and squeeze reassuringly.

It's enough. It's enough to fill Tony with an overwhelming feeling of _relief_ , to let him know that Loki has not judged his crimes to be unforgivable. It's enough that in this state of vulnerability the desire to bridge the few measly inches that exist between them becomes something not worth fighting. 

“ _Don't_.”

Tony blinks, surprised to find that he has actually acted on the impulse to move closer. He backs off slowly, registering the relief in Loki's eyes when he returns to an acceptable distance.

“Sorry.”

“Don't be. You shared something deeply personal. I understand.”

“Maybe that's the problem.”

After a moment of silence Loki slowly eases himself to his feet. “I should go.”

It isn't until the prince is about to exit the Conn-Pod that Tony works up the courage to ask, “Are we good?”

Loki pauses. “Tomorrow we will be.”

Tony doesn't comment as he watches his best friend walk away.

 

**Blacklist**

“So are you going to tell me why you’re obsessed with this girl or am I going to have to guess?”

Loki clicks his tongue reproachfully as he swirls the port in his glass. “Special Agent Potts is a woman, not a girl, Tony.”

Tony Stark appears unmoved by the reprimand. “You’re being reckless,” he accuses.

Loki laughs, nearly choking on his drink. “If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black I don’t know what is.”

The remark only ratchets up the intensity of Tony’s glare. “You could have warned me that you were going to hand yourself over to the FBI.”

“Why? So that you could try to talk me out of it? Or so that you could join me in Federal custody?” When Tony doesn’t reply Loki puts down his drink and neatly folds his hands in his lap. “Tony, I am well aware that I am playing a dangerous game. But Special Agent Potts is someone whose trust it is essential that I gain. The only way for me to do that is to make myself an invaluable asset to the FBI. The only reason I did not bring you into this is because you’re the one chess piece whose movements I’ve never been able to predict. For my plans to come to fruition I need to have complete control over the entire game, and that can’t happen if you’re playing.”

Smug pride flickers across Tony’s face before it is forced away by his still burning cocktail of fury and concern. “Then tell me what you’re planning. Tell me why this agent is so important to you.”

Loki tips his head to the side, a smirk curling his lips. “I doubt it will take long for you to see quite clearly the game I am playing. I’d hate to ruin the surprise by explaining one of my artful deceptions before the time is right.”

Tony continues to glare, still unimpressed. “You’re an asshole, you know that right?”

Chuckling Loki beckons Tony to him with a gesture. When Tony doesn’t respond Loki huffs, “Really Tony? Our first night alone together after months of separation and you desire to spend it standing across the room from me radiating animosity? Your time in Japan has clearly done terrible things for your sex drive.”

“My sex drive is fine thanks,” Tony replies icily. “I’m just not in the mood to climb into bed with someone who might be planning to sell me out to the FBI.”

All traces of amusement leave Loki at that. “Why do you believe I’m selling anyone out to the FBI?”

“Why else would they put you under house arrest instead of throwing you into the deepest darkest hole they could find?” Tony sneers. “Also I hacked into their systems and found out about your _Blacklist_. People so good at hiding what they do the FBI don’t even know they exist; does that sound like anyone standing in this room?”

For a long moment Loki simply stares unwaveringly at Tony. “You’re not on my list,” Loki admits at last. “There are over a hundred names on my list but none of them are yours.”

“Why not? I’m sure the FBI would happily give you immunity if you offered up the guy who can hack any system in the world without so much as breaking a sweat.”

Again, Loki lets the silence permeate the room as he tries to convey without words that for once he is speaking only truths. “You are not on the list because you do not deserve to be there. Of all my contacts in the underworld you are one of the few whom I have never once regretted giving aid.”

“Why not?” Tony presses.

Loki picks up his glass, smiling almost ruefully. “For all that you hide in shadow and deal death without mercy to your enemies – you are one of the few people I know who I would describe as a true hero. A modern day Robin Hood if you will; taking from the rich and corrupt to aid the poor and repressed. In my moments of sentimentality I admire your work and am reluctant to have any involvement in ending it.”

Tony takes his time considering this answer. Eventually he smiles, uncrosses his arms, and gracefully pushes off the wall he’s been leaning against all night. “You know, for a second there it almost sounded like I was something more than an exceptional booty-call to the big bad Concierge of Crime.”

“Then you must be losing your hearing in your old age,” Loki replies sharply, his eyes not quite meeting Tony’s.

Tony’s smile morphs into a leer as he takes a seat in Loki’s lap. “Or maybe you’re getting soft in yours.”

Before Loki can respond Tony moves for his lips. For what many people would describe as a cyber-terrorist Tony is an impressive kisser. By the time he pulls away Loki is almost ready to reveal all the intricate details of his current plans involving Agent Potts and the FBI. Almost.

“So,” Tony murmurs, his teeth scraping along the edge of Loki’s jaw, “does your Very Special Agent kiss like that?”

“I’m afraid the most intimate Agent Potts and I have been was when she injected me with a toxin in order to force me to reveal the location of an assassin targeting a woman she had bonded with.”

“Wow,” Tony mutters, true interest appearing in his seductive brown eyes. “She sounds like a badass. Why wasn’t this in her file?”

“I’m fine by the way,” Loki grumbles with exaggerated annoyance. “And it’s not in her file because I didn’t report it. I’d never be able to win her trust if I reported every little attempt she made on my life.”

“Remind me how I’m the reckless one,” Tony chuckles.

Instead of answering Loki reclaims Tony’s lips, effectively putting an end to all idle conversation for the rest of the night.

 

**The One They Lived**

It hadn’t taken long for Tony to figure out that the mysterious gifts were extraterrestrial in origin. Metal ores with unique chemical compositions, technology decades ahead of what Tony was working on, books that answered questions philosophers had been struggling with for centuries – there was no way this stuff had come from Earth. Which, logically, meant that Tony’s out-of-season Secret Santa also wasn’t of Earth. Upon coming to this rather obvious conclusion the first thing Tony had done was call Thor in London to ask if he was the one attempting to butter him up. The supposed god had replied in the negative, and had been less than helpful in providing a list of alternative aliens with an interest in him. Ditto SHIELD when Tony had made a _polite_ request for them to hand over all their alien-related files. (He’d followed this request with a not-so-polite hacking of their systems which had revealed that, for once, Fury had been entirely candid when he’d said he didn’t know anything relevant to Tony’s investigation).

After a month of pestering all of his contacts with any connection to the extraterrestrial, Tony had admitted defeat. He knew he was missing something – a vital piece of the puzzle which would unmask his mysterious gift-giver within seconds. Unfortunately that piece remained as elusive as his alien benefactor, and Tony was in no mood to waste precious time looking for someone who might currently be off-world; especially when he had so many wonderful gifts he had postponed unwrapping during his search. He’d decided that he was content to simply wait for his unknown gift-giver to reveal themselves. Hopefully by the time they did he’d be able to put on a show demonstrating just what he was capable of creating when he was given such shiny new toys to play with.

***

Six months after the appearance of the first gift Tony’s mysterious benefactor makes an appearance in the inventor’s workshop. As with the gifts, one minute Tony is alone with JARVIS, the Bots, and Metallica – the next there’s a casually-armoured alien in his sanctum-sanctorum.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Tony says when he looks up and sees Loki standing on the other side of the holographic table.

“I’m afraid tales of my demise were greatly exaggerated,” Loki replies, his grin smug but otherwise unthreatening.

“Huh,” Tony says, discreetly signalling JARVIS to ready his own armour. The new Mark II might not yet be operational but the new Mark I has been waiting for a proper test run since its creation not long after the fiasco with the Mandarin.

Loki’s gaze travels to Tony’s fingers beneath the table and Tony has to fight the almost instinctual urge to flee. Instead he clenches his fists and does everything in his power to not show fear. To not let his mind drift to memories of wormholes and endless, gaping darkness that wants to swallow him whole, to drag all oxygen from his lungs until he can’t breathe – to kill him slowly, in the dark, far away from the people who care for him and those who don’t and those who send him marvels that revolutionise the way he sees the world and those who-

“Breathe.”

Tony recoils a little at the command. He returns his focus to Loki; allows the echo of the order to centre him. Then he (grudgingly) does as the asshole instructs. He breathes: slowly, deeply, letting anger replace panic. He glares at the supposed deity and waits for him to make his move.

“You have nothing to fear Stark; I did not come here to fight.”

Loki’s no longer grinning. He looks serious and almost concerned for Tony – which, all things considered, is truly laughable. If Tony wasn’t trying to act unruffled by Loki’s ability to casually waltz past his beyond high-tech security he probably would laugh. As it is he simply sneers, “Who said anything about me being afraid? If anyone should be afraid it should be you Rock of Ages; or have you forgotten what happened the last time you broke into my home?”

For some reason this causes Loki to relax. “I have not forgotten,” he answers genially. “In fact, I remember our encounter vividly. It is why I am here today.”

Before Tony can call for the suit Loki pulls a small crystal orb out of thin air. He carefully places it on the table between them before returning his hands to his sides.

“You will need this if you do not wish to destroy your home in the course of your planned experiment. It will absorb the majority of the blast, although I would still recommend standing as far back as possible when mixing your chemicals.”

Tony stares wordlessly at the orb for a long moment before returning his gaze to the supposed-to-be-dead alien. “I take it this means you’re my secret admirer.”

Loki grins and the sight raises Tony’s hackles more than he’d like. “Indeed it does.”

Tony takes a minute to mull over this new information. “Why? What are you trying to achieve with all this?”

The grin disappears. “For once I’m not trying to achieve anything in particular. I am simply curious as to what you will do with the trinkets I send you.”

It takes a tremendous force of will for Tony not to balk at the scientific wonders sent to him being referred to as ‘trinkets’.

“Bullshit. There’s no way you don’t have an endgame here so spill – what exactly are you expecting me to do here?”

Holding out his hands in a gesture of good faith Loki replies, “This is an honest answer Stark. I expect nothing but to be impressed by what you create.” Something dark crosses his face as he continues, “You have already forged something I thought impossible. I want to see what further marvels you might craft with knowledge that is beyond this realm.”

“What are you talking about?”

Loki grins. “You’re a clever man; do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“If you wouldn’t mind – machines are more my thing than riddles.”

“Ah, but riddles, illusions and slight-of-hand are my speciality, and it has been _so long_ since I’ve interacted with someone who I actually look forward to seeing through all of my...bullshit,” Loki replies almost gleefully.

Tony eyes the alien warily. “You’ve either been taking too many happy-pills or not enough.”

Loki snickers. “I’m not insane Stark, simply bored. Surely you of all people can understand how one sentiment can often manifest as the other?”

His smile is affable, comfortable – as if he is conversing with a close friend instead of a former enemy. Current enemy, Tony hastily corrects; he doesn’t yet know enough about Loki’s motives to designate him as anything other than a threat (even if he is a most excellent gift-giver).

“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or flattered that you’d allow yourself to be compared to a lowly mortal.”

“Hopefully you will choose the reaction which will be most interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

Loki’s grin is as sharp as steel. “Surprise me,” he breathes in a tone that is almost flirtatious.

Tony crosses his arms. “I’m not sure how I feel about being your distraction from whatever con you’re running. Actually, that’s a lie – I feel pissed to the point of deleting all the information I’ve gleamed from my experiments on your ‘gifts’.” The humour disappears from Loki’s eyes and Tony scrabbles to tag on a hasty, “Unless you tell me exactly what you’re expecting me to discover during the course of my investigations.”

For a long moment Loki is a statue with a definitely unnerving gaze. At last he looks away and Tony allows himself to breathe. “There are things in this universe that desire destruction for the sake of destruction. You have already seen but a fraction of their forces.”

“The Chitauri,” Tony states as a lead weight settles in the pit of his stomach.

“They are the foot soldiers of an entity that has set its sights on your puny realm. You would do well to use what I give you to find some way to defend yourself.”

“And you,” Tony guesses. “They are, or were, your allies but you don’t trust them not to come after you when they’ve had their fun with us lesser creatures. You want me to build you an insurance policy.” Loki doesn’t respond but Tony knows he’s right. That’s the real reason the alien has been sending him things he would never otherwise have had access to. He wants Tony to find the answer he can’t, to build the weapon he can’t visualise. Still, all this begs the question: “Why me? I know I’m amazing and a genius and a myriad of other things – but what _exactly_ is it about me that makes you think I’m the right man for the job?”

“I would have thought that would be obvious to a man of your intellect.”

When Tony doesn’t respond Loki’s smug grin returns.

“I’m sure you will chance upon your answer soon enough. In the meantime I will leave you to contemplate these parting words: be careful with your heart Tony Stark. I have invested a great deal in you and I would hate for it all to be for naught.”

With that Loki disappears as suddenly as he appeared. Tony stares for a long moment at the place he’d previously occupied, furiously analysing the alien’s words. Suddenly it clicks and Tony releases a string of increasingly vitriol curses. “JARVIS, send the suit. I need to get to Malibu ASAP.”


End file.
